


Thalassophile

by BasilOaks



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye egos - Fandom
Genre: Body Image, Brotherly Love, Changes In Scenery, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Romance, F/M, Growing as Individuals, Language Barrier, Learning from Past Heartbreak, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Magical Realism, Medical Procedures, Mental Anguish, Moving On, Mutual Pining, Oceanside Towns, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Male/Male Relationships, References to Depression, Sharing a Bed, Side Artist! Henrik, Sign Language, Siren! Chase, Sirens, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Male Character, Underwater Exploration, Unresolved Emotional Tension, hand holding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-02-26 22:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18726307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasilOaks/pseuds/BasilOaks
Summary: “Thalassophile, a lover of the sea...” Henrik smiled softly as he read the definition to the man resting on the edge of the shore, waves crashing around them both, the other’s smooth, scaled tail wrapping around the German’s waist, pulling the two closer. “Hm, how appropriate...”





	1. Eleutheromania

Henrik sighs, instinct forcing his cardigan tighter around his chest and shoulders, the downpour of rain falling upon the sprawling landscape of rugged cliffs and rocky shores causing a chill to seep into his form. He shifts subtly, pushing aside crumbled paperwork from his lap, sliding smudged glasses away from his temple- pinching at the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to force away the headache attacking his brain. The scenery out the window to his side is ever-changing, his forehead pressed firmly to the glass: eyebrows furrowing in the battle to stay awake against the mix of rain white noise and train-lag. 

_Drapetomania. God, he feels like a walking contradiction: floundering to his urge to run, escape his problems._

* * *

_It had been another typical evening in Brighton: the hospital had been relatively quiet, even allowing for a quick swing by the cafeteria for a cup of lukewarm coffee and a stale protein bar, pretending not to see the exasperation in his colleague's faces._

_Driving home in of itself was calm, the lack of drivers on the road due to the time and local weather: rain falling onto the city like water dripping from the tap, the lights blurring through fogged car windows and storefront glass. A crapy, but admittedly catchy, pop song plays quietly through the car speakers, Henrik humming along to the base melody while driving home._

_'Clara would probably be in bed already with how late it currently is...’_

_He sighed, grip on the steering wheel tightening. He's a doctor- late nights are part of the job description, but God did he hate slipping back home late in the evening. Reheated dinner waiting on him in the microwave, his wife’s growing animosity towards him making everyone on edge the minute he steps through the doorway._

_It was around ten when he pulled into the driveway of the family’s two-story home, soft light peeking through the curtains of his daughter’s room and the main living area beckoning to him from the driver’s seat. He could see it now: Marie waiting to dole out her harsh judgments the minute he walks through the door._

_He's hardly in the door before he hears the clacking of her heels against the tile floor, meeting him in the living room doorway with her arms crossed, blood-red nails tapping on her toned forearm._

”I see the _good doctor_ has finally decided to _grace us_ with his _presence,” she hisses, venom in her tone. Marie moves towards him with dangerous grace, like a predator stalking its prey, sending a chill down his spine._ ”You’re late. Again.” "...Clara?" "Already upstairs... This is getting ridiculous Henrik, it's the third night this week you've been late getting home.” “M, I can’t help what schedule the hospital assigns me- you know that.” ”Honestly, does it look like I give a fuck?” _She sneers as Henrik slips out of his thin jacket, placing it on the coat stand behind him._ “Listen, I’ve tried to get my schedule switched-”

“Well, try harder! Ugh, just… just say goodnight to your daughter, I’ll reheat you some leftovers or something…”

-

"Clara? Maus, I know you're still up- _oof!”_

”Papa!” _she launches her scrawny self from the comfort of her lilac sheets, her father catching her mid-air and carefully swinging her around the room._ "You're finally back! Mom said you'd be out for..." _She thought for a moment, shaking her head before moving on to the next topic, being tucked back into bed. A warm smile spreading on his face as his little girl snuggled further into the warmth of her sheets._ "Oh, mom's friend was here today, Mr. Rick. She said not to say anything, though, that you'd get mad...”

”Oh maus...” _he ruffles her dirty blonde curls, pressing a kiss to her forehead._ ”I could never be mad at you, ok? Please don't listen to mom when she says silly things like that... Now,” _he pulls a chair next to the bed, book in hand,_ "storytime. I’m thinking, hm, how about...”

-

"Rick was here this afternoon?”

_Marie turns away from the sink, facing her husband head-on, contempt explicit in her icy gaze._ ”Like it concerns you.” ”You may not like it, but we're still married, Marie.” _He holds up his hand, wedding ring still snuggly on his finger, watching her as she grabs her leather jacket off the dining room table, slipping into it and fixing her lipstick in the closest mirror._ ”I'm going out... Your dinner is warming in the microwave. Don’t wait up for me.” ”Marie... Marie!”

* * *

He’s startled awake by the blasting ringtone of his phone, breaking the relative quiet around him. _“Gottverdammt…”_ Henrik rubs at the bridge of his nose in frustration, his fingers running through his slicked-back curls, taking a breath before picking up. “Hello?”

_"Bonjour connard! À quelle distance es-tu?"_

He chucked, his brother’s voice giving some type of familiar comfort from the empty loneliness from traveling alone. “Well, good morning to you too. I’m close- about… thirty minutes out? Why, did you think I wasn’t going through with this?”

_“Ha! I’ve known you for most of my teenage years, I totally believe when you say ‘hey, I’m uprooting my entire successful life to live in a little, sleepy town in the middle of nowhere’ that you definitely mean it,”_ he laughs.  
“Jacques, you are an insufferable little-”  
_“Hey, hey! I’m glad you’re doing this, moving out here. It’ll be good for you.”_  
“I hope so-”  
_“Écoutez, dépêchez-vous, ok? J'ai des choses à faire.”_  
“Ich denke nicht, dass dein Freund Shawn als ‘Dinge tun’ zählt, aber in Ordnung.”  
_“Henrik!”_

_“May I have your attention, please. We are currently approaching our station in Delheim Point, if this is your stop, please begin to collect your belongings. This is also a safety announcement. Due to today’s weather, please take extra care when departing the train and on the station. Surfaces may be slippery.”_

“Listen, we’re almost at the station, I’ll text you when we pull in, alright?”

_“You better! Now go, tu me fatigues!"_  


“...Excuse me?” Henrik looked up from where he was absentmindedly packing up his things towards the voice, a young woman nervously standing above him, steadying herself by holding tight to the closest seatback. “Uh… hi? I’m so sorry, this is kinda weird, but my family is giving is being a pain in… well. Could I maybe sit here for a moment? If its no trouble to you!”

“Please, feel free to sit,” he said with a soft, friendly smile. “I understand the pain of dealing with overbearing families.”  
“Oh thanks, thank you so much. I swear if I stayed sitting over there any longer I think I would’ve gone insane.”  
“Believe me, I know the feeling.” The doctor chuckled, unable to not see his own daughter in her, looking so much like a slightly older Clara with her mane of dirty blonde curls and bright blue eyes, freckles covering every inch of her nose and cheeks. 

“So I couldn’t help but overhear… you’re traveling to Delheim Point? This might sound kinda stupid, but like, why? There’s really nothing of note there.” Henrik blinked, his face almost unreadable until his lips shifted into a slight frown. 

“Long story… My brother moved there from Paris a few years ago, though I would appreciate the quiet.”  
“Well, there’s plenty of it… Oh, has he told you any of the weird rumors? Those are like, the only interesting things Delheim’s got to offer.” She continued when he shook his head no, her hands going into overdrive as her confidence increased, rambling on about softly glowing lights in the waters off the coast, remains of sunken ships being washed up onto the shore in pristine condition, sightings of creatures science couldn’t explain… 

Henrik just scoffed, but in all reality, he just couldn’t help but be intrigued by the fantasy of the teenager’s stories.

The two continued talking till the train pulled into the station, parting as she returned to her family and Henrik finished collecting his things. Despite being only half-siblings, he and Jacques were surprisingly alike, both loving to watch life from a distance- meaning the Frenchman was tucked into the corner of the waiting area, light golden brown hair a mess and clothing rumpled due to dozing off while waiting for his brother’s arrival. The German smiled wickedly, sneaking behind the other’s sleeping form to whisper into his ear in an attempt to wake him up.  
“Guten Tag, Schlafmütze…”  
“Ahh! Henri, tu baises! I thought I told you to text me when you were close!”  
“Check your phone… You didn’t tell me about Delheim’s local mythology! And right off of that series of cliffs close to the house! You’ll have to tell me later when you’re helping me unpack.”  
“Like you would let me help you unpack Mr. Control freak,” Jacques said, picking up Henrik’s suitcase and slapping his brother on the back. “More like as I entertain you with the local gossip. Now, race you to the car, old man?”  
“Jacques? Jacques, slow the fuck down!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eleutheromania: (noun) A great desire for or obsession with freedom 
> 
> Chapter One Translations:  
> -Gottverdammt: Goddamn   
> -Bonjour connard! À quelle distance es-tu?: Hello asshole! How far are you?  
> -Écoutez, dépêchez-vous, ok? J'ai des choses à faire: Listen, hurry up, ok? I have things to do  
> -Ich denke nicht, dass dein Freund Shawn als ‘Dinge tun’ zählt, aber in Ordnung: I don’t think your friend Shawn counts as ‘doing things’ but okay  
> -Tu me fatigues!: You annoy me!


	2. Toska

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I am so sorry about the wait on this chapter! With a combination of exams, vacation, and some of the worst writer's block I think I've ever had, this project completely slipped my mind. But I'm back! And uploads should be much more consistent now.

_He stood upon a ship's weathered bow, the picture of masculine poise looking out past the horizon towards a distant shore, regal blue waistcoat flowing against the German's form basking in the crisp, midnight breeze. Everything was just... too loud at the moment, the joyous ruckus coming from down below deck was too much for the young man to handle, walking closer to the starboard and calmness of the sea._

__

__

_A creature, majestic and dangerous in its form, breached for air, pulling itself up to rest along the hand-railing, claws digging into old red oak, talons carefully tracing along the sailor's sharp jawline. Pressed up against the railing, the creature, so painfully slow and deliberate in its movements, cupped the other's face, pulling the other closer, tail and arms wrapping around the sailor's neck and thin torso. Large hands brushed strands of long hair back, eyes meeting for a split second before lips were pressed together, a soft hum filling the pregnant silence. He was being pulled over the edge, fangs sinking into the soft skin of his neck and collar before being dragged into the choppy current, water filling his lungs and fate sealed with one last smoking kiss..._

* * *

It was early, golden morning rays filtering in through curtained windows and onto the now awake Henrik, the german's cheeks flushed bright pink and heart racing, pounding against his ribcage. He took a sharp breath, shifting from his cocoon of blankets and pillows but refusing to leave the warmth his bed supplied.

 _"Oh.. Oh fuck..."_ Henrik whispered, barely pressing his fingertips against his chapped lips out of reflex, the fictional taste of smoke and salt water coating the tip of his tongue. A hand ran through matted brown curls, another fumbling for a pair of glasses before stumbling out of bed towards the bathroom across cold tiles.

The mirror fogged as Henrik turned on the shower, stepping into the spray and letting the warmth of the water seep into his weary bones. He could almost still feel the pain of teeth sinking into the soft skin of his neck, the ghost of arms around his neck and phantom pressure around his waist…

The doctor continued sitting under the showerhead until the water turned cold, lost deep in thought at how quickly life seemed to be slipping through his fingers, how one simple- _god,_ a simple _dream_ seemed to have him so shook up. It took a moment to finally work up turning off the faucet, stepping out of the tub and into the steam, Henrik drying himself off and allowing his usually slicked back hair to curl as it naturally dried as he washed his face and changed. He shivered as he stepped out of the bathroom now dressed in a clean sweater and jeans, bare feet silently padding against the hardwood stairs.

He briefly passed by the kitchen on his way downstairs, noticing his usually well put together brother bustling around the kitchen, his pinstriped shirt a wrinkled mess and hair only comparable to a rats nest. He was opening various cabinets and drawers in search for something, aggravation clear through the curses being mumbled under the Frenchman's breath. Henrik sighed, ignoring his brother’s insistent morning ramblings, grabbing a blanket and slowing stalking over to the pair of large sliding glass doors, slipping out into the crisp sea atmosphere to decompress.

It had barely stopped raining since the doctor had arrived, the color of the sky a constant graphite haze looming over the small seaside town. Henrik shivered, pulling the flannel cloth closer over his lithe frame as he looked out over the sea below, waves crashing gently upon the weathered shore, the rain from last night mixed with the ocean giving the rocks scattered along the coastline a distracting shine. He found himself walking down from his deck to the sandy earth below during the drizzle, sitting along where the tides reached their farthest point. It was as if he was hypnotized by the always moving waters, creating an almost unearthly clarity allowing for the view of its most hidden content.

* * *

The shadow moved gracefully under the ocean’s waves, tail flicking between the extensive caverns and long winding rock formations like a moss-covered ghost, it’s scales gleaming unnaturally against the depths dark tint. Webbed fingers brushed over ancient carvings and old sunken artifacts, sharp nails digging deep into the sandy ocean bottom before breaching for air, throwing its bag to the side as it climbed onto the rocks above the surface. Calloused hands came up to push back moss-colored locks away from it’s freckle-covered face, breathing slowly as the first beams of light shown down onto the figure’s form.

Chaisie sighed, beginning to sort through his new finds- slit eyes dilating as he noticed smaller, more interesting details of scrawling text and intricate patterns, fingertips tracing over the carvings as his mind began to wander. Images of handsome ship captains sailing across the seven seas in search for hidden treasures, beautiful women hosting grand parties in stately homes, the tides pulling young girls to it’s bosom with the promise of freedom and rebellion danced through his conscious, crafting dreams of years gone by…

He looked across the stilled waves, past the rocky coastline towards the rugged cliffside and the house sat atop it, eyes widening as the siren noticed a figure standing in one of the doorways. Chaisie ducked down and out of view as the other began the walk down the shore, the creature’s eyes never leaving the other’s form. The figure looked like a mess, but an intriguing one- one that stole the siren’s focus away and left him breathless… He was, well, scruffy in his appearance- hair being blown about by the rolling winds, flannel blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders and waist, dull eyes staring out towards the water and reflecting back a type of life that sent a shiver down Chaisie’s exposed spine. He flushed as the man stepped into the tide, humming a soft tune that haunted the siren in his core, scales across his body glowing the closer the man got to his perch, voice itching to finish the melody the other had begun…

His voice was rough from a combination of disuse and the early morning, but his tone was light- soft and careful before becoming stronger, more pulling and enticing than planned… more than just a call to pull the man to his watery death. Chaisie stalled when the man called out to him, taking a moment to just listen to the other’s rich voice acting as it’s own siren song, confusion flooding his mind before another voice called out towards the sea, its own tone angry with worrying undertones. The man began to retreat back, the other figure pulling Chaisie’s subject of interest out of the water and back towards the land, and with one final glance, the siren dived back into the depths, only one thing on his mind…

_Henrik._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toska: (noun) A dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a spiritual anguish
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> [Come yell at me on my tumblr!](https://basiloaks.tumblr.com/%22)  
> 


	3. Forelsket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s been a while! Again, I totally didn't plan on going so long without an update, but school starting back along with massive writer's block really decided to screw this project over. Chapter three is finally done though! It's not exactly the longest, but I promise chapter four will make up for it. Sorry for the long wait!

He’s found himself lounging in one of the many caves littered around Delhiem’s rocky coast, the outcropping of scattered rocks providing short-term protection from the on slot of rain pouring onto the ocean’s surface, a distant rumble of thunder causing the creature to shudder against cool sand and granite. He’s pulling himself up onto a slick slab- one large enough to support his weight, exposed spine flush against the stone beneath, webbed fingers tracing meaningless patterns into coarse sand, mind wandering far from his temporary sanctuary, far from the storm raging outside crashing onto a battered shore.

To a house upon a hill and piercing blue eyes…

_“Oh.. Well shit.”_

A soft, barely audible groan passes through the siren’s salt-chapped lips, hands finding themselves clenched tightly around strands of moss-colored curls. It feels as if a match has been struck to kindle a fire in his bosom, his heart now an ever-fueled blaze that spreads a comfortable warmth across his freckle-covered cheeks.

_Henrik._

_Beautiful, alluring, tempting Henrik…_

There’s a voice whispering in the dark, untouched corners of his mind: a voice strong in accent and content, but surprisingly soft in its delivery- God how beautiful his soft humming sounded once mixed with the constant white noise of crashing waves… He closes his eyes to the world, and even _then_ the haunting presence of the man invades his senses. The phantom pressure of the strong and calloused, but delicate hands of a doctor worshiping his collar and jawline, fingers delicately running through the siren’s unruly curls. He feels an overwhelming spike of dopamine and adrenaline pipe through his body at the idea of Henrik, _his _Henrik: hair tousled and windswept, lips swollen and pink against pale skin, the immense need to fall further into the human’s temptations.__

____

____

Some thoughts are so horribly domestic, so painfully wonderful in a way that burns away all feelings other than unusual contentment. It’s as if he’s a different person in these dreams, so satisfied with his lot in life, comfortably vulnerable around another living creature who _thinks_ and _feels_ with the same intensity and deposition. It's the closeness of their bodies while lounging upon the shore, limbs intertwined in a way that warms the depths of his ever-cold heart. The smallest brush of fingertips enough to send sparks through the siren’s entire being, the simplicity of a peck on the cheek or chaste kiss on the lips overwhelming...

The creature’s eyes open with a jolt, breath heavily and heart-pounding, guilt quickly taking the forefront of his psyche. He's weak, feeling trapped by the overbearing feeling of failure, the craving for companionship he could never acquire. He can’t do this- not again. Can’t reveal himself, can’t harm another innocent.

He can’t love Henrik.

_And God does that hurt like hell…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forelsket: (noun) the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love 
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> [Come yell at me on my tumblr!](https://basiloaks.tumblr.com/%22)  
> 


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